Molly
by Oppy
Summary: FKS#8-Molly thinks about her children, and how her youngest son is growing up. *complete*


Disclaimer: Il y a une poulet dans ta maison. C'quoi ca? Mon chien na pas ou un chandail rouge pour l'Halloween! Il ma fait peur, mais ca fait rien. Yeah, that's right!!!  
  
Ahem.  
  
I do not own this stuff blah blah blah. (I DO own that little french sentence thingy. I'm cool.)  
  
A/N: I added a very slight hint of H/G, for you H/G-ers! Heh. But it's very VERY slight so if your not an H/G-er, then don't worry about it. I mean slight. Very. Slight.  
  
Molly's POV: I remember when Bill was first born. I was so nervous. I was always afraid I wasn't going to do it right, I wasn't going to be a good mother. Feels like just yesterday I was holding him for the first time, looking at him for the first time. Now he lives so far away, with his long hair and earring . . .they certainly grow up fast.  
  
Then of course there was Charlie. He was always a good kid, smart, well behaved, a bit excitable, but then, most of my boys are. And he was always exceptional at Quidditch. We all thought that was his calling in life, until he expressed his love of dragons. So he went off to Romania, on his own.  
  
Percy, unlike the others, was a very quiet little boy. Quiet, studious, good mannered. Everything a mother could hope for, and more. Oh, how proud I was when he made Prefect and Head Boy, just like Bill. Of course, then I found out about Penelope. Don't get me wrong, she's a lovely girl, but I hadn't really realized that Percy had grown up already. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it's true.  
  
The twins. I don't have to say much about them. When I found out I was pregnent with twins, I was so excited. Well, the excitement has never left since. And, although I yell at them about Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, I really am proud of them. They're quite clever, to come up with those things.  
  
Ginny, my little girl, now not so little anymore. She and Harry seem to be getting quite close . . . She's still that shy, quiet little girl, and I think she always will be in my mind. I just hate the idea of her growing up. She's the baby of the family, after all. And she's my only girl. That means something.  
  
Last, but definitly not least, my youngest son, second youngest child, Ron. He has a lot to "live up to", or se he thinks. But he really doesn't. Yes, his older brothers are wonderful, but so is he. He seems to have trouble seeing it. I don't understand it though. His friends see it, and they tell him so too. Especially Hermione. If I weren't in such denial that my little boy weas growing up, I'd say something was . . .ahem, "going on" between them. But that can't be. Because Ron is my little boy.  
  
At least that's how I used to think. Until that day. ;-)  
  
As usual, everyone was at the Burrow for the summer. We were all sort of sitting around, not doing much. Normally, I'd have found some chore for them to do, but it was just too hot.  
  
So, Ron and Hermione were sitting next to each other, rather close, really, talking in hushed voices. Harry was with Ginny, talking while flipping through some Quidditch book.  
  
Casually, I looked over at Ron and Hermione, trying not to be obvious. Hermione was giggly, which is quite unlike her, and Ron was blushing. I remember what it's like to be at that age, around the one you . . .  
  
Never mind that.  
  
I couldn't take it. I don't know why, but seeing them like that, it made me sad. My little boy, the last of them, was growing up. So I did what I always do when I feel upset. I went to find my husband.  
  
Arthur was in our bedroom, looking over some Muggle junk. When he saw my face, he immediately knew something was wrong.  
  
"Molly, dear, what's happened?"  
  
"Ron isn't a baby anymore, Arthur!" I whined. I know I must have sounded mad. But I didn't care. You have to be a mother to understand.  
  
Arthur and I sat in our room and he just comforted me. He told me that it was inevitable, that our kids were going to get older, like everyone else, and we should look at it in a good way.  
  
"Remember when we first met?" He asked.  
  
I certainly do. We were about 16 years old. We had always known of each other, but we hadn't really spoken to each other. Then we were paired up in Potions class. We kind of hit it off, and that was that. My mother was a bit angry with me though. More than a bit, actually. There was a big row about it. My mother thought I was too young for "boyfriends and nonesense", and I should have been concentrating on school work. But I didn't listen. I wanted to grow! I wanted to be . . .oh.  
  
I smiled at Arthur.  
  
"I get what your doing. And thank you." And I went downstairs, to find the living room empty, except two people. Ron and Hermione. I won't say what they were doing, you can probably figure it out. Plus, it's private and I'm still in a little bit of denial. But they seemed very happy, when they pulled away from each other, and that made me happy.  
  
Ever since then, I've completely accepted Ron's growing up, like I learned to accept my other children's growing up. I'm still holding onto Ginny though. I don't want her to grow up just yet . . . 


End file.
